


Nothing But Loose Ends

by starrywrite



Series: Super Rich Kids™ fic [2]
Category: Pentatonix, Superfruit
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Bottom!Scott, Deleted Scenes, First Time, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Pansexual!Scott, Smut, Timestamp, Top!Mitch, Underage Drinking, Underage Smoking, Virgin!Scott, okay that's enough about Scott..
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-07-11 16:42:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7060816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starrywrite/pseuds/starrywrite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Too many bottles of this wine we can't pronounce, too many bowls of that green, no lucky charms. The maids come around too much, parents ain't around enough. Too many joy rides in daddy's jaguar, too many white lies and white lines” - Frank Ocean, Super Rich Kids.</p><p>Some snippets and screenshots from my fic, Close My Eyes and Feel The Crash. Basically a deleted scenes compilation. Enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. pulled apart at the seams

**Author's Note:**

> since this fic is based around an AU i created, you should probably read the original fic just so everything makes sense! warnings for this ‘chapter’ include: drinking, smoking, and one very brief death mention. as always, feedback is much appreciated!! <3
> 
>  **Chapter Summary** : “Three people have already asked him what universities he’s applied to, and his parents have already answered for him three times. Mitch continues to drink so he doesn’t have to break the news that he and Scott set fire to their college applications in the woods.”

The woods are silent and peaceful, the only sounds are of the small animals frittering about or the leaves rustling when the wind picks up. Scott could get used to this; if he wasn’t deathly allergic to everything nature had to offer, he would definitely choose living in the solitude of the woods than the loud hustle and bustle that is the city. And, of course, Mitch would be living there with him. Preferably in a treehouse. Where no one could find them or nag them about what universities to apply to or what school they need to go to. Who cares about college when you live in the woods?

The trees are glowing orange as the sun sets, a yellow tint cast over every bit of green surrounding them. Mitch sits opposite of the sunset, and he is positively glowing. A halo of light wraps around his head, his eyes glistening as the lighting changes, his hair appearing just a shade lighter than usual. He looks ethereal. 

When Mitch notices Scott staring at him, he lowers the cognac bottle to stick his tongue out at him and Scott can’t help but smile a little, ducking his head down to hide the blush dusting across his cheeks. Mitch is without a doubt one of the most beautiful people he’s ever seen, and he can’t believe how lucky he is that he gets to stare at him all he wants. Well, maybe not _all_ he wants; he figures it would probably get a little weird if he was constantly looking at Mitch as if he was the most stunning creature God has ever made (even though Scott is pretty sure that he is). 

Even right now, ranting and raving, Mitch looks beautiful. “Who the hell names a university _Duke_?” his nose scrunches up in disgust, and Scott has to bite his lip to keep himself from bursting out laughing at the face he’s pulling. He reaches for the bottle of cognac, snapping his fingers until Mitch passes it to him and he takes a long swig. “It’s such a stupid name,” Mich continues. “It’s a _literal_ name - who the hell is Duke anyway?” 

Scott smiles a little, his mouth still around the bottle. “The name was changed to honor the dad of some guy who, like, did something with tobacco and fought in the Civil War,” he replies.

Mitch rolls his eyes. “I hate that you know that.”

“My dad gave me a crash course in Duke history,” Scott says with a shrug, giving Mitch the bottle back. “Did you know that their colors are Duke blue and -”

Mitch interrupts him with a loud groan. “That is literally the most pretentious thing I have ever heard,” he says. “And that’s coming from _me_.”

Scott chuckles softly, murmuring, “Yeah,” and he looks down at the papers in his hands. He has to fill out an application before even starting on the _actual_ application for the university, and on top of that he needs to write an essay - he doesn’t even know what the topic has to be, that’s how little he cares - and define his concentration, in a field he doesn’t want to study. Whenever he thinks about all of this, he feels sick to his stomach, anxiety eating away at him until there’s nothing left. His whole body tenses up and he starts shaking without even realizing it; more often than not, Mitch has to calm him down. Right now is no exception.

Wordlessly, Mitch reaches for the application papers in his hands and Scott replaces the emptiness with a lighter and a pack of cigarettes, both of which was purchased by the oldest person he knows aside from his parents - his friend Avi’s sister, Esther. He only had to endure a brief lecture on lung cancer, luckily with no visual aids and only minimal bitching. And Mitch had swiped the cognac from his dad’s liquor cabinet before they departed for the evening. The way Scott saw it, the two of them could smoke and drink themselves to death and nobody would be none the wiser for at least a few days. And for those few days, the two of them would truly be at peace for once in their lives. 

“What are you thinking?” Mitch asks him.

Scott, knowing he can’t tell Mitch that he’s thinking about the two of them dying Romeo and Juliet style, glances at the college applications in his hands and replies, “I’m thinking about burning these applications.” For emphasis, he flicks his lighter, a small flame bringing warmth to his face, and he smiles a little. 

A wide smile stretches across Mitch’s face. “Yeah?” he asks. “Then let’s do it.” 

Scott’s smile drops a little, being replaced by his jaw dropping just slightly in shock. “I - you - _what_?” 

“Let’s do it,” Mitch repeats. He rips out the first page of the application and crumbles it up, tossing it to the ground and motions for Scott to light it.

“I’m pretty sure this is how forest fires start,” Scott tells him, but he doesn’t object to what they’re about to do.

“We’ll be careful,” Mitch reassures him. “And if it’ll make you feel better, we can burn my applications too.”

“You mean your dad’s applications,” Scott corrects him. 

Mitch smirks a little and says, “All the more reason to burn them.”

Scott’s heart starts to pound a little and he isn’t sure if it’s excitement or nerves, but either way, Mitch has to get this started. He passes Mitch his lighter, and without hesitation, Mitch lights the crumpled up application on the ground on fire, the small flame engulfing the entirety of the piece of paper and right away, Scott starts to stomp on it because Mitch refused to do so in his five hundred dollar boots. Eventually, the paper is just nothing but soot and dirt, and Scott’s heart is still racing. 

Mitch tears out another page of Scott’s Duke application, and offers it to Scott along with the lighter. “Would you like to do the honors?” he asks with an excited smile. 

Eventually, they have something similar to a bonfire made, their fire high, but controlled, the flames being fed with college applications to schools they don’t want to go to. They take turns ripping out pages, crumpling them up, and then throwing them into the fire, smiling as they disintegrate before their eyes. If Scott was more poetic, like Mitch is, or if he were the character in a coming of age teen-lit novel, he’d think that this moment was some sort of metaphor for them finally taking charge of their futures, and not letting their parents control them any longer.

Scott watches as the flames dance before him, as Mitch takes the final page from one of their applications, rips it into smaller pieces and feeds it to the fire. The sun has set, the woods now dark spare for the fire they have created. Scott looks at Mitch, seated across from him, his face illuminated by orange flames, a slight bead of sweat resting along his hairline. Scott can feel that he’s sweating too, but somehow, Mitch just makes it look _good_. He shouldn’t be surprised though; Mitch always looks good. In fact, in all of the years that Scott had known him, Mitch has never looked bad. Even when he got hit in the face with a football, Jan Brady style - even with his face all swollen and tears rolling down his cheeks, he still looked beautiful. 

“That’s the last of it,” Mitch says, snapping Scott out of his thoughts. The wide smile on his face saying, _fuck you_ to his parents and to Harvard Law. The truth is, Mitch could easily get into Harvard; he’s smart, and not the kind of smart where you have to try really hard like Scott, he’s just genuinely smart. But Mitch doesn’t care about math or English or science - he cares about art. He’s an artist, he wants to create. 

Scott can’t help but to think about college sometimes, even though it puts an ache in his stomach. Because he wonders just where he and Mitch are going to end up, if they’re going to still be together. Deep down, he knows that no matter what, he and Mitch will still be friends and they’ll still find ways to be in contact and see each other if, Heaven forbid, they end up in different cities - or worse, states. But he still can’t help but worry. Scott will be the first to admit that he and Mitch are slightly unhealthily codependent with each other; they hadn’t left each other’s side for years, and Scott doesn’t think they even know how to be apart. And to be frank, he’s terrified to find out if he’s right or not. 

“Hey,” Mitch says softly, once again bringing Scott out of his head and back to reality. A concerned look crosses his features, a small frown on his face as he asks, “You okay?” 

“Yeah,” Scott murmurs, his voice soft and probably hard to hear over the crackle of the fire, “I’m okay.”

Wordlessly, Mitch gets up and walks over to the other side of the fire, where Scott is seated on his jacket and he curls up to his side, drawing his knees up to his chest. He leans over, resting his head on Scott’s shoulder, and Scott wraps his arms around Mitch’s small frame, hugging him tightly. “I love you, Mitchy,” he whispers, closing his eyes as he buries his face in Mitch’s hair. It’s soft and smells like coconut, and Scott subtly inhales deeply, savoring the younger boy’s scent. 

“I love you too,” Mitch whispers in reply. His voice is slightly muffled by the angle where he’s pressed against Scott, but he doesn’t make any attempts to move. “I love you more than anything and anyone, you know. No matter what.”

“Me too,” Scott murmurs, silencing himself because he knows if he says anymore, he’ll start to cry. Maybe tomorrow he’ll tell Mitch what’s bothering him, maybe he’ll just keep it to himself. But for now, he just holds Mitch, basking in the heat of the fire they created. Neither of them say anything more than their soft whispers of, “I love you,” and they sit together, holding each other, until the fire eventually dies. 

With the flames now gone, the woods feels significantly colder and Mitch grumbles in Scott’s ear until he agrees to leave. Scott picks up his backpack and it feels significantly lighter, but when Mitch takes his hand as they head home, his heart feels fuller.


	2. i've only felt religion when i've lied with you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “"Please, don’t stop.”  
> And, thankfully, he doesn’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it took a while, but i’m back! (probably not by popular demand though tbh). hope you guys enjoy this <3
> 
> warnings: drinking, smut, very very very brief daddy kink mention.

Mitch has never been more thankful for Scott’s letterman jacket than he is tonight as he walks in the dead of night, shivering all over, teeth chattering noisily. The overlong sleeves protect his fingers from turning into icicles and the weighted, thick coat protects his tiny frame from the cold Los Angeles nighttime air. But still, he shivers as he walks, unsure if it’s because he’s still so cold or still so angry. 

He wraps his arms around his middle, as if trying to hold himself together, and he keeps his head bent, focusing on his feet - left, right, left, right - to keep his mind off of what had previously happened at home. He doesn’t want to think about it anymore, his head is throbbing with the thought of his mom and dad and the place he’s supposed to call home, and he knows if he spends one more second thinking about it, he’ll burst into tears. And he simply does not have the energy to start crying, not after everything he’s gone through tonight. So, instead, he thinks about Scott; he thinks about how Scott is just minutes away from him and soon, everything will be okay. 

When he finally makes it to Scott’s house, after taking a moment to catch his breath and scold himself for not driving instead of walking, he grabs a few stones from the yard and throws them at Scott’s bedroom window like something out of a nineties rom-com. It takes a few tries - his aim is off and Scott’s bedroom light is off, so Mitch assumes that he’s asleep - but finally, Scott opens his window and looks down at Mitch standing in his yard. Wordlessly, he just nods, shutting his window and disappearing. A few moments pass before the front door of the Hoying residence opens and Mitch can walk inside. 

Immediately, he breathes a sigh a relief when he sees Scott standing before him and he doesn’t say anything, he just pushes himself forward and presses his face to Scott’s chest. Scott wraps his arms around Mitch, hugging him tightly, and for a minute, the two of them just stand there. Tears burn at Mitch’s eyes, but he doesn’t let them fall and he presses his face deeper against Scott’s chest. He can feel Scott’s hands running through his hair in an attempt to calm him down without even really knowing what’s wrong. “My parents,” is all Mitch can manage to choke out, and Scott just nods.

“C’mon,” he says, finally breaking their embrace, and he offers Mitch a small smile. “I’ll make you some tea.” 

“Will there be whiskey in it?” Mitch mumbles, only half kidding, and Scott laughs quietly. “I’m sorry if I woke you,” he says following Scott into the kitchen.

“You didn’t,” Scott tells him, turning on the kitchen lights. “I’m actually glad you came over; my parents have been out all evening and it was starting to get pretty lonely here.”

Mitch sighs as he pulls up at chair at the kitchen table. “I wish I had that problem,” he murmurs.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Scott asks him. Mitch glances up to see him rummaging through cabinets - he’s _actually_ going to make him tea, and Mitch smiles a little. 

“I prefer wine,” he says. “And yeah, just.. Give me a minute.” 

Scott nods again, then disappears into the dining room. Mitch can hear him picking the lock on his dad’s liquor cabinet, and moments later he returns with a huge bottle of something Mitch can’t pronounce. He pours the both of them a glass and then pulls a seat up next to Mitch. He doesn’t push Mitch to talk; he just waits patiently for him to feel ready to open up. Mitch finishes his glass of wine before he can start talking. 

“My mom went on one of her spring cleaning binges,” he starts to explain. “And when I came home today, she -” his voice catches for a moment and he has to take a long sip of wine before he can continue. “When I came home today, I knew she had gone through my room - she always does it when I’m out of the house so she can just throw out whatever she wants. I’m usually good at hiding the stuff I don’t want her to touch but -” he groans quietly at himself, shaking his head. “I’m so fucking _stupid_ ; I left it hanging on my bedroom door and -”

“Left what?” Scott asks. He reaches out and places his hand on top of Mitch. 

“My Valentino jacket,” Mitch tells him, knowing very well that Scott probably doesn’t have a clue as to what he’s talking about but he can’t be bothered to explain. “It was fucking _vintage_ \- it isn’t even being made anymore, and she fucking threw it out. It’s fucking gone forever now.”

Scott gasps quietly. “What a bitch,” he whispers. Mitch notices how one of his hands curl into a fist. 

“She - she didn’t even _care_ ,” he adds. “I told her how much it meant to me, how it was a staple in the fashion world, and she just said _we can buy you a new ugly, yellow blazer this weekend_.” Mitch scoffs, shaking his head. 

“Typical Nel,” Scott sighs. “Everything can be fixed with money.” 

Mitch presses his palms to his eyes. “That jacket was a one-of-a-kind,” he moans quietly, feeling just as low as he did the moment he found out his mother had gotten rid of it. “And now it’s fucking _gone_.”

“I’m sorry, baby,” Scott says softly. He gets up out of his seat to stand behind Mitch and hug him.

Mitch doesn’t budge from his hunched over position. “Neither of them cared,” he tells Scott. “My parents - they don’t understand how much fashion means to me, and what’s worse is that they don’t _want_ to understand. They don’t care enough to understand something that is my whole life.” he presses his hands harder against his eyes, as if physically trying to push the tears back in. “I want to study fashion, I want to design fashion, and they just don’t _care_. They treat it like it’s some stupid little hobby, that one day I’ll snap out of it and realize I’m meant to be a lawyer and stop playing around with my sketchbook.”

“Screw them,” Scott says. “When you become bigger than Valentino they’ll realize how wrong they were.”

“I’ll never be bigger than Valentino,” he rolls his eyes, but manages the smallest of smiles. “I just -” he sighs, shaking his head again. “I just want them to let me be _me_. I can’t be myself in that house and I hate it.”

“It makes me sick,” Scott murmurs. “They treat us like we’re actors in a play they’ve created - like we have to do everything _they_ want us to do, and God forbid we break character.” he shakes his head. “We’re just puppets and they’re holding the strings.”

“What I wouldn’t give for a pair of scissors,” Mitch sighs. 

“I know, baby,” Scott says quietly. He gives him another tight squeeze before letting Mitch go and pouring them both some more wine. 

“I know you know,” Mitch replies as Scott tops off his glass. “You’re the only one who gets it.”

Scott smiles a little, but it’s a sad one. “Because I’m living it too,” he says with a shrug. 

Mitch looks down at his hands on top of the table. “I wish you weren’t,” he whispers. “I wish we weren’t.”

“Hey,” Mitch glances up as Scott reaches for his hand and this time, his smile is a little bit more genuine. “At least we have each other.” 

Mitch smiles a little, his face heating up. He blames it on the wine. “Always.”

* * *

They’re both pretty tipsy when they head up to Scott’s room, bottle of wine in hand because after Scott tells Mitch about his own fight with his parents tonight, Mitch decides that the best payback is finishing off Mr. Hoying’s overpriced wine only to be drunk on special occasions. “This _is_ a special occasion,” Mitch insists before he drinks from the bottle. They had left their glasses downstairs and neither of them could be bothered to go get them.

“What’s so special about it?” Scott asks him, taking the bottle from him and drinking some as well.

Mitch shrugs; his mind is too fuzzy to think of something witty to say. “You’re special,” he finally settles on, as he takes a seat on Scott’s bed. He presses his back against the wall and smiles a little at him. “And when I’m with you, I feel special. That makes tonight a special occasion.”

Scott blushes so much his face is nearly purple. “You’re so gay,” he says, trying to laugh it off but Mitch can tell that he’s got him all flustered. He loves that - making Scott blush and stutter, making him fumble with whatever he’s holding and avoid eye contact. It’s cute. Mitch loves it when Scott gets all shy, especially now because his most recent memory of Scott’s adorable bashful way include the moments after Mitch blew him in his bedroom not too long ago. 

Now it’s Mitch’s turn to blush; his entire face heats up at the thought of sucking Scott off and when he reaches for the bottle of wine to drink some more, his lips wrapped around the end of the bottle nearly make him choke when he remembers his lips wrapped around Scott’s cock.

“You okay?” Scott asks him as he sputters a little.

Mitch nods. “Just some wine up my nose,” he lies but it’s believable enough that Scott doesn’t question it. Lucky for Mitch. And luckily, that’s the end of _that_ conversation as Scott curls up in bed next to Mitch, sitting as close to him as he possibly can without being in his lap. Mitch tilts his head to the side, resting it on Scott’s shoulder, and he sighs softly.

“Talk to me,” Scott tells him after a moment of silence. 

The brunet shrugs a little. “Just can’t stop thinking about my parents,” he murmurs.

Now it’s Scott’s turn to sigh as he reaches for the bottle of wine. It’s already half gone now. “Yeah, me too,” he says. “Yours, mine. Why do they all have to suck? It’s not fair - it’s not fucking fair.”

“I know, baby,” Mitch nuzzles the side of Scott’s face in an attempt to calm him down. The blond’s scruff tickles his nose. “It’s alright.”

“No it’s not, and you know it,” Scott says with a sigh.

“I know,” Mitch repeats softly. “But they’ve already ruined our night once, let’s not let them ruin it again, okay?” That seems to do it for Scott, because he murmurs, “Okay,” in agreement and reaches for his remote control, flipping through the channels while he and Mitch pass the bottle of wine back and forth. They don’t find anything worth watching, and by the time they finish off the bottle, Scott has made his way up to the _adult_ channels. 

The two of them shoot forward so fast, it’s almost comical, and their eyes widen at the sight before them. Granted, it is straight porn and neither of them are remotely turned on by this big breasted blonde woman’s loud, over exaggerated moans, but to say they’re a bit startled would be a bit of an understatement. “Uh,” Scott stutters awkwardly, fumbling with the remote to change the channel - which he does, but he just continues to go up through the stations, a different sex scene shown before them with each click. 

Eventually, the embarrassment gets to be too much for Scott, who drops the remote to the floor. 

Mitch giggles a little and Scott swears under his breath. “Forget about it,” Mitch tells him, turning to Scott. “It’s not like either of us are into that.”

“Porn?” Scott asks.

“Women. Specifically women in bad porn who can’t act,” Mitch clarifies.

Scott shrugs a little “I like women,” he admits. “Women, men, people.” Mitch feels his face burning a little when Scott says that, feelings of jealously gnawing at the pit of his stomach and settling there. It feels acidic. “But,” Scott says, breaking the silence that followed. “I like you best of all.” 

Mitch’s face heats up, and he moves the empty bottle of wine aside so he can crawl into Scott’s lap. Immediately, the blond wraps his arms around Mitch’s body, holding him close, and Mitch tucks his head down against the crook of Scott’s neck. Scott hums softly to him, just holding Mitch in his arms, and when Mitch starts to stir, Scott gives him a sweet little kiss on his neck. 

Mitch sighs happily at that, and so Scott does it again - giving him another little peck, and then another. And then another. 

He exhales hard through his nose, squirming around the slightest bit in Scott’s lap as the blond continues to kiss his neck. Scott sighs against Mitch’s skin, and it makes Mitch shiver when he feels Scott’s nails dig into his hips. He whimpers so softly, it’s barely audible. “Scott,” he exhales, and Scott moans against his neck. 

Mitch turns, straddling Scott’s waist, and he grips the sides of his face as he kisses him, hard and needy. Scott moans again, squeezing Mitch’s hips tight in his hands, and he kisses back, matching Mitch’s passion. Mitch shivers all over when Scott whispers his name against his lips, teeth scraping against his bottom lip until Mitch’s mouth is swollen and he can’t help but to moan quietly.

It all happens so fast, as do most things with Scott and Mitch. In an instant, they’re all hands and tongues, all over each other gripping and grabbing at each other. Bruised skin and flushed faces and heavy breathing. And like most things with Scott and Mitch, neither of them really know how it had gotten started but neither of them want it to end. 

Mitch can feel himself getting lost in Scott; he feels like he’s floating when Scott kisses him, his heart racing in his chest, and he knows he’s a little drunk right now but he also knows that this feeling is _all_ Scott. He can feel Scott’s hands all over him, grabbing him and holding him. He slides his hands up his shirt and drags his nails down Mitch’s back, he gives his ass a firm squeeze. Mitch whines softly against Scott’s mouth, panting a little, and he whimpers his name as he starts to rock their hips together. Through the thin material of Scott’s grey sweatpants, Mitch can feel how hard he is, and he lets out a guttural groan. 

Through his haze, he can hear Scott’s little breathy moans and it takes all of Mitch’s energy not to completely fall apart in his lap. Scott squeezes him so tightly, Mitch can already feel bruises forming on his skin - and he fucking loves it. 

“God,” Scott gasps, face flushed and lips swollen. Breathlessly, he pulls away for a second and he asks, “What are we doing, Mitch?”

“I don’t know,” Mitch admits. He’s shaking a little, holding onto Scott a little too tight. “But please,” he whispers, reaching up to cup his face in his hands. He runs his fingers through Scott’s hair, brushes his thumbs against his stubble, anything just to feel him. “Please, don’t stop.”

And, thankfully, he doesn’t.

Scott is hesitant for a moment, but he kisses Mitch again, and Mitch can’t help but to moan as soon as he feels Scott’s lips press against his. Gently, Mitch presses his hands to Scott’s chest and he pushes him back until he’s lying on his back, and Mitch makes himself comfortable on top of him, straddling his waist. Scott’s hands are on his hips. Mitch shivers when he thinks about how big Scott’s hands are, how he can practically hold all of him in both of his hands. He bites his lip to keep him from saying something far too risque for this sweet moment they’ve created. 

Scott pulls Mitch down against him, rocking his hips up, and Mitch gasps, his eyes practically rolling back in his head when he feels Scott’s press against him. “Scotty,” he grunts through gritted teeth, because he has to say _something_ that isn’t “daddy.”

“I got you,” Scott murmurs to him, his mouth against Mitch’s neck as he grinds their hips together. He holds Mitch’s waist so tight, Mitch is certain there will be bruises and Mitch all but throws his head back with a loud moan. “I got you, baby,”

Mitch can’t wait any longer; he grabs the hem of Scott’s pants and starts to pull them down. He waits for Scott to raise his hips off of the mattress to make things a little easier for him, but instead the blond tenses up and then blushes a little. And then it dawns on Mitch that this is Scott’s first time. That _he_ is Scott’s first. 

He pauses for a moment. Granted, he was far too young for his first time, but he remembers everything about it so clearly. And while there were a lot of things he would have changed about it - like the fact that it was in the bed of a truck in the middle of the night, and the fact that he and the guy ended up breaking up a few months later - it was still a beautiful and sweet moment. And that’s what he wants for Scott; he wants Scott to remember this positively. He wants to take care of Scott. And if there’s anything he’s learned from his past, he definitely is not going to leave Scott high and dry when they’ve finished. 

“Hey,” he whispers to him, kissing him sweetly on the mouth. “I got you,” he says to him. “And we don’t have to do anything you aren’t ready for.”

“No, I’m ready,” Scott insists, his face still red. “I want you and it want it to be you. I’m just -” he bites his lip, looking down shyly. “I’m nervous.”

“I know,” Mitch replies, brushing Scott’s hair out of his face and then cupping his cheek in his hand. “It’s okay, I’ll go as slow as you want me to and we can stop any time.”

Scott hesitates. “Will it hurt?” he finally asks.

“Not at all,” Mitch is quick to say. “It’ll feel kind of weird and uncomfortable, but it won’t hurt. I won’t hurt you.”

“Okay,” Scott whispers. “Okay,” he repeats, mostly to himself, and he looks up at Mitch, smiling a little. “I trust you.”

Mitch smiles back, kissing him again, and then he gently pulls down Scott’s sweatpants and underwear, followed by his own. “Okay, so,” he sighs. “We need -”

“I have condoms,” Scott blurts out, and then blushes furiously once more. 

Mitch raises an eyebrow. “You _do_?” he asks. 

Scott’s face is practically purple and he can’t meet Mitch’s eyes once again. “I - they were free, okay? And I wanted to - I don’t know!”

Mitch giggles a little and kisses Scott’s flaming cheek. “I’m not judging you, baby, I’m just surprised. Where on earth did you get free condoms from, anyway?” When Scott doesn’t reply, Mitch reaches across him towards his bedside dresser and pulls open the drawer. Like he suspected, there are a few scattered condoms lying there, mixed in with a lighter, a pack of cigarettes, and a picture of the two of them. He blushes a little when he sees that, and he picks up one of the condoms. He reads the words printed on the front - _No Glove No Love, Harvard-Westlake School, Go Wolverines!_ \- and he bursts out laughing. “You got condoms from the school nurse?”

“They were _free_!” Scott repeats, and Mitch just laughs harder.

“Okay, well, we’re using two because these are probably cheap as hell and that’s why they were free,” he tells Scott. “And tomorrow, we’re taking your cheap ass to the store to buy some real condoms like a man,”

Scott just rolls his eyes. “Yeah, you’re so manly,” he says. “You didn’t even have any condoms on you!”

“I wasn’t planning on having sex tonight!” Mitch insists. “And I usually have them in my purse, which is at home, and - you know what? We’re wasting time, and we still need lube.”

Scott shrugs a little. “Can you just use spit?” he asks. Mitch grimaces when he says that and Scott says, “That’s what they do in porn.”

“No,” Mitch says flatly. “That’s unsanitary and unsafe, for starters. And porn is fake as fuck. You and I, we’re real.”

“You’re so gay,” Scott says, but he’s smiling wider than ever and his cheeks are nice and rosy. Mitch rolls his eyes but gives Scott another kiss and reaches for his hands, squeezing them a little. “So, about this lube,” Scott says, breaking the silence.

“Oh yeah,” Mitch mumbles, and after a moment of thought he says, “I’ve got an idea. Be right back.”

“What do you -”

Before he can ask any questions, Mitch, reluctantly, climbs off of Scott’s lap and exits his room. He makes a beeline down the hall to Mr. and Mrs. Hoying’s bedroom and pushes the door open. It creaks loudly, almost uninvitedly, and Mitch reminds himself that desperate times call for desperate measures. Even though they aren’t home, and likely won’t be coming home for hours, he still feels his heart racing with the idea of getting caught, naked and rifling through their drawers. So he moves as fast as he can and when he - just as he suspected - finds a small tube of lube in one of their dresser drawers, he takes it and leaves as fast as he had arrived. 

“Where’d you find that?” Scott asks him when Mitch returns to his room.

“The lube fairy,” Mitch says sarcastically, climbing back onto Scott’s bed. 

“What -”

“Don’t worry about it,” Mitch sighs. “Right now, all I want you to focus on is how good I’m going to make you feel, okay?”

Scott’s face heats up and he shyly bites his lip (although Mitch swears that he’s trying to be seductive. And it’s working), and he murmurs, “Okay.” 

“Okay,” Mitch repeats, and he leans in to give Scott a sweet, slow kiss. He can feel all of Scott’s tense muscles relaxing as they kiss, and he gently pushes the blond down once again so he’s lying on his back. One of Scott’s hands scrambles around the mattress to find Mitch’s, and Mitch laces their fingers together, giving him a reassuring squeeze. They part briefly, only to catch their breath. Mitch can feel Scott’s chest rising and falling against his own, and Scott’s eyes are hooded and hazy. His face is flushed, and he’s hard and pressing needily against Mitch’s thigh, and Mitch has never seen Scott look hotter than in this moment. 

“Okay,” he says softly. “Can you pass me a condom, please?” 

Scott’s eyes widen a little but he hands Mitch one of the condoms lying on the mattress. He doesn’t take his eyes off of him as Mitch puts it on, and when he reaches for a second one - he wasn’t kidding about doubling up, after all - Scott whispers, “Can I?”

“Yeach? You want to?” Mitch asks him, and when Scott shyly nods, Mitch hands him the condom. His breath hitches as he watches Scott open the packaging with shaky hands and then he gently slides it on, over the first one. Mitch bites his lip to hold back a moan. “So good, baby,” he breathes, feeling all of the blood in his body rush down south.

“I’m not doing anything,” Scott murmurs, clearly embarrassed and feeling shy. Mitch loves it when he gets like this; so submissive and sweet. 

“You’re still perfect,” Mitch whispers. “You’re so perfect, Scotty.” Now he’s the one who’s shaking as he reaches for the lube, his entire body trembling with how badly he wants Scott. He squirts some lube on his first two fingers and says, “I’m going to stretch you a little first, okay?” 

“Okay,” Scott whispers. Mitch nuzzles his jaw, pressing sweet little kisses along the side of his face and neck as he gently pushes one finger inside of Scott, then another a few moments later. Scott’s breath hitches, then he gasps, then he _moans_. Mitch can’t really see him from the angle his head is at, but he’s pretty sure that Scott’s eyes all but roll back. He gently and slowly scissors his fingers until Scott is crying out his name, his dick leaking with precum. 

Scott whines when Mitch pulls out his fingers, and as quickly as he can, the brunet coats his hand with lube and rubs it over the condom. “Ready?” he asks Scott. Scott can hardly get the words out; he just nods his head quickly, and Mitch presses his lips hard against his as he slowly presses inside of him. 

He can feel Scott tensing up at first, whimpering softly. “It’s okay,” Mitch whispers to him soothingly. “You’re okay. Do you want me to stop?” he asks. 

“No,” Scott whimpers. He squeezes his eyes shut, burying his face against Mitch’s neck. “Please, don’t stop.” he whispers. 

And as per his request, Mitch doesn’t. 

It takes him a moment to get used to it, but once Scott calms down, Mitch starts to rolls his hips against Scott’s. Scott gasps, his entire body shaking as Mitch thrusts, albeit gently, in and out of him. He moans Mitch’s name as if he’s calling out for him with his last dying breath, his face still hidden against his neck. Mitch grasps as Scott’s back, accidentally scratching him a little as he tries to grab him. “Jesus Christ, Scotty,” Mitch whispers, rocking his hips a little bit faster. Scott seems to react to that; he, in turn, moves his hips to mirror Mitch’s, and he groans and moans his name with every breath he takes. 

“Mitchy, Mitchy - oh _fuck_ ,” Scott practically chants, and it hasn’t been very long, but Mitch can already tell that Scott is close. And truth be told, so he is. One of the perks of being just shy of eighteen, it doesn’t take either of them a very long time to get off. 

Mitch grabs Scott’s hips and pulls them tight against his own, holding him still for a moment while he makes love to him. Scott cries out once again, his entire body tensing up, and after a few more thrusts, he’s coming hard and loud against Mitch’s belly. Mitch gasps when Scott comes and it isn’t long before he’s pushed over the edge next, and Scott’s bed is a complete and utter mess now, especially after their sweaty bodies collapse onto his mattress. 

Both of their chest are heaving as they try to catch their breath. Scott’s eyes are wide, almost as if he can’t believe what had just happened. Mitch takes a breath, mustering up whatever bit of strength he can and he pushes himself up to pull out, when Scott stops him. “Wait,” he says weakly. “Wait, I -” his face goes red and he whispers. “I like feeling you inside of me. I like feeling full of you.”

Mitch lets out a broken moan. “Jesus, Scotty, are you trying to go for round two already?” he asks. Scott chuckles and ducks his head down shyly. Mitch places his hand on his chin and lifts his head up, then kisses his forehead, the space between his eyes, his nose and then his lips. When Scott says so, Mitch gently pulls out, then discards the used condom into Scott’s trash can - which is thankfully right by his bed, because Mitch’s legs kind of feel like jelly at the moment and walking anywhere does not seem all too appealing. 

Scot lies on his back, still breathing heavier than normal, his face still flushed. Even though they’re both disgusting, Mitch lies down next to him and pulls him in close. “Are you okay?” he asks.

Scott lets out a breathy chuckle. “Are you kidding? I’m amazing,” he replies and Mitch smiles. “Are _you_ okay?” 

“I’m perfect,” Mitch tells him, kissing his temple. He hesitates briefly, then softly asks, “Did you like it?”

“Yeah,” Scott says quietly. “I mean, I know I don’t have anything to compare it to, but that was… _Wow_.”

Mitch giggles softly. “You’re pretty _wow_ yourself, Hoying. You know, for a virgin.”

Scott rolls his eyes. “Fuck off, we’re supposed to be having a nice moment.”

“You’re so gay,” Mitch tells him. 

“Well for that, I’m not going to tell you that I love you,” Scott says, a smile fighting its way onto his face. 

“Yeah?” Mitch asks. He can feel himself blushing like mad, and he rests his head on top of Scott’s chest and he whispers, “I won’t tell you I love you too, then.”


	3. we end our day up on the roof

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “And they’re still best friends; they still drink together and smoke together and sneak out onto rooftops together. But now they make each other come. So, not much has changed but so much has changed.” - Close My Eyes and Feel The Crash.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT’S BEEN 84 YEARS.GIF lmao   
> i feel awful for taking so long to update and i know i suck please don’t hate me :( but i am trying to suck less!!! and i hope u guys enjoy this, as always feedback is much appreciated <3 
> 
> warnings: sliiiiiiight internalized homophobia and one mention of homophobic parents.

The rooftop of the Hoying’s house was Scott and Mitch’s favorite place to be. Especially together.

It was more convenient to access than Mitch’s rooftop; for one, Scott’s room had a balcony, and from there it was only a brief climb upwards. Whereas at Mitch’s house, they would have to go through his attic to get to the roof and the two of them were convinced it was haunted, so they made as much effort to avoid it as possible. And there was just something about being up on a roof that made the two of them feel invincible, like they were on top of the world and nothing could touch them. Nothing could hurt them. _No one_ could hurt them. 

Whenever Scott didn’t answer his phone, Mitch knew that he was up on his roof - the cell reception was awful up there. And Scott always went up there when he needed to get away from everything, when he needed to think. Mitch always knew he could find him up there. 

Tonight was no exception. 

Mitch calls him for a third time, and when Scott doesn’t answer, he heads over to the Hoying house and stands in their front yard, squinting up to see if he could make out Scott’s figure up on the roof. And just as he suspects, he can see someone shuffling around up there. Smiling a little, he pockets his phone then cups his hands around his mouth and shouts, “How’s the weather up there?” not caring that it’s almost ten o’clock at night and most of Scott’s neighbors are probably trying to sleep. 

He can barely make out Scott in the dark, but he can hear the blond call back, “Get up here and you’ll find out!” and that’s all the invitation Mitch needs. 

Getting up on the roof from the outside is much harder than people make it seem in the movies, so Mitch opts for letting himself inside then heading up towards Scott in a way that causes him a little damage as possible. On more than one occasion, Mitch has asked Scott to take pity on him and get a staircase installed - or at least get a ladder - but Scott refuses, claiming that he doesn’t want his parents to be able to come up to his secret spot. And, well, Mitch can’t argue with that. 

He’s out of breath and exhausted by the time he makes it up to Scott, rolling his eyes when Scott says, “It’s about time.” 

“Fuck off,” Mitch huffs, crawling away from the edge and over to the blond. He curls up to Scott’s side like a cat and rests his head on his shoulder. “How long have you been up here?” 

Scott shrugs a little. “Few hours, maybe. I don’t know. I just needed to think.”

“Is everything okay?” Mitch asks, making himself comfortable against Scott. There’s a breeze, making it a little chilly, and he shivers just the slightest bit. Scott wraps an arm around his shoulders and holds him close. 

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, and Mitch waits patiently and quietly as his friend seemingly collects his thoughts. “Did it - or, I guess, does it,” he finally starts to stutter, softly. Mitch strains to hear him, but he doesn’t say anything while Scott speaks. “Does it bother you that I was a… that I never -”

“That you were a virgin?” Mitch supplies. Scott’s face goes damn near purple, and Mitch asks, “Why would I care about that, baby?”

Scott shrugs, but he doesn’t meet Mitch’s eyes. “Because you’re… not, _that_ , and I’m just so inexperienced -”

“It doesn’t matter to me, Scotty,” Mitch interrupts gently. “Just because you were a virgin and just because you haven’t done a lot of sexual things, doesn’t make me any less attracted to you.”

Scott just shrugs again, still blushing profusely, and he mumbles, “Okay.”

Mitch places a gentle kiss to his cheek. “Is that all that was bothering you?” he asks softly. 

The blond falls silent again, closing his eyes and just laying there, not saying a thing for a long time. Mitch just waits patiently for him to speak up, but anxiety starts gnawing at his chest and his mind has already gone through the five stages of grief before Scott says anything. “I like boys,” he whispers, barely audible, but Mitch hears him clear as day.

He’s quiet for a moment; this isn’t breaking news, Scott has told him before that he’s attracted to multiple genders - he believes the term he used was _pansexual_ \- and he isn’t too sure why Scott is telling him this now. “I know,” he says slowly. “You’ve told me before you’re -” Mitch pauses, then carefully asks, “Are you saying you’re -”

“I’m not gay,” Scott whispers, eyes still closed. “I just. I like boys, the way I’m supposed to like girls.”

“You aren’t supposed to like anything or anyone, Scotty,” Mitch tells him. “You can’t help who you like.” Again, Scott doesn’t say anything for a moment, and Mitch continues, “There’s nothing wrong with being a boy who likes boys, babe. It’s okay that you like boys.”

“Tell that to my parents,” Scott murmurs so quietly, but Mitch can hear the hurt in his voice loud and clear and it just shatters his heart. 

“Did they say something to you?” he asks, dreading the answer. But Scott doesn’t say anything, just shakes his head “no” and Mitch almost breathes a sigh of relief.

“I just -” he starts, then stops himself, pausing for a moment. His eyes are still closed as he speaks, “I just know they wouldn’t love me anymore if I wanted to be with a boy.”

“Then fuck them,” Mitch says simply. “If that’s true, then you don’t need them in your life at all.”

“They’re my parents, Mitch,” Scott says, sounding tired, as if they’ve had this conversation before. And truthfully, they probably have. “It’s not that simple.”

“Yes, it is,” Mitch tells him, firmly. “Them being your parents does not mean that they can make you feel like shit, especially for something that is out of your control.” Pushing himself up into a sitting position, Mitch crosses his legs and reaches for Scott’s hands, pulling him up as well. “Just because they’re your parents does not mean you have to let yourself feel this sad and scared all of the time,” he says, looking Scott in the eye. “And it doesn’t mean that you have to deal with their shit. You’re almost eighteen, you’re going to college next year, you can cut them off and never have to be bothered by them again. It’ll be hard, but you can get by without them, Scotty, you don’t need them. All you need is yourself.”

“And you,” Scott says quietly, his voice cracking the slightest bit.

Mitch manages the smallest of smiles, just for his sake. “You will always have me,” he whispers to him. “I promise.”

Scott sniffles a little, and Mitch immediately throws his arms around him in a tight embrace. For the next few hours, they don’t say much else. They sit together on the rooftop of the Hoying house, hugging and holding and cuddling with each other, occasionally giving each other sweet little kisses on the other’s cheek or jaw. Mitch can’t tell if Scott feels any better after their talk, but he seems to have relaxed more now. 

“I’m glad we can still do this,” Scott whispers to him after a while. 

Mitch turns his head to look at him. “What do you mean?” 

Scott blushes a little. “I’m just glad that nothing has changed after _that_ night,” he says, almost shyly. 

Mitch can’t help but to smile and he kisses Scott’s neck. “Of course nothing’s changed,” he whispers, snuggling close to him. “Nothing will ever change. We’re Scott and Mitch, we’re always going to be Scott and Mitch.”

“Always,” Scott murmurs, kissing the top of Mitch’s head, then quietly says, mostly to himself, “Always.”


	4. and the ink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “After the letdown that was dying his hair, Mitch comes up with a new plan to assert their rebellion: matching tattoos.” - Close My Eyes and Feel The Crash.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> matching tattoos is my weakness and writing this fic probably gave me an ulcer. 
> 
> no tws, just fluff!!!
> 
> enjoy! as always, feedback is much appreciated!! <3

“Are you _sure_ you wanna do this?” Scott murmurs softly so the tattoo artist sitting behind the front desk doesn’t hear and think he’s a pussy. Because he’s _not_ ; it’s just that tattoos are permanent and can’t be easily undone the way dyeing your hair can. 

“Yes,” Mitch says firmly, looking through a booklet of designs while they wait for a free artist. Scott peers over his shoulder, looking at the pages of the book, at designs of flowers and examples of script styles and dragons and flames and crosses. “Maybe we should get something small,” Mitch muses. “But still noticeable, you know?” 

“I -” Scott starts, then stops, not knowing what to say. 

“You aren’t backing out, are you?” Mitch asks, looking over at Scott. He raises his eyebrows, as if challenging Scott to tell him that he doesn’t want to get matching tattoos anymore. 

Scott sighs. “You do realize tattoos are permanent, right?” he asks in reply. “As in forever. See also: eternal, evermore, until hell freezes over -”

“Okay S.A.T. Word of the Day,” Mitch interrupts, rolling his eyes. “Your point?”

“My point is I had to climb out of your bedroom window -”

“Not for the first time,” Mitch mumbles, interrupting again, and Scott nudges him, giving him a look that just says _shut up_.

“I had to climb out of your bedroom window,” Scott repeats. “And run to the drugstore because you had a panic attack and decided to un-dye your hair. You can’t un-get a tattoo, Mitchy.”

“I know that,” Mitch says with an annoyed sigh. “I know and I really want to do this, it’s important to me. Dying my hair was always going to be a temporary thing; I couldn’t have purple hair forever. And a tattoo is something I’ve always wanted, knowing my shitty dad will hate it is just the icing on the cake. After everything they put me through, they deserve a nice ‘fuck you’ or two.” 

Mitch hesitates for a moment. “And I want to do it with you because you’re important to me.” Scott’s face flushes and he ducks his head down, suddenly very interested in a page of memorial tattoos.

“Matching tattoos is like the ultimate bond of forever,” Mitch continues. “And I want you in my life forever so it just seems fitting,” he’s blushing now and Scott pretends not to notice, biting his lip to suppress a smile. “And besides,” Mitch adds. “Your dad is going to lose his mind when he sees it, don’t you think?”

Slowly, Scott smiles. Suddenly the idea is much more appealing to him. 

They continue to wait for a couple more minutes, and in that time they finally agree on a design they should get, until an artist is finally free to work on them. Scott gently nudges Mitch forward, informing him and the artist that he will be going first, and the artist puts on his latex gloves. 

“So, what’ll it be?” he asks. 

“We both want a skull on our finger,” Mitch tells him. Mitch choses his middle finger - appropriately - and Scott choses his ring finger. The artist draws a sketch of a skull, they both love the design, and before Scott knows it, it’s happening. 

“Matching skull tattoos,” the artist murmurs, prepping Mitch’s finger. “Now that’s a first; nothing I’ve ever seen before. It’s a nice idea though.”

“You think so?” Mitch asks, trying to appear less anxious than he actually is. Scott holds his free hand tightly and when the artist isn’t looking, he kisses Mitch’s knuckles. 

“Yeah,” the artist nods. “It sorta makes me think of _till death do us part_ , you know?” 

Mitch’s smile is wider than Scott has ever seen it in days, and it makes his heart swell up. He knows exactly what Mitch is thinking; this is perfect for them. _Till death do us part_ always sounded dramatic and cliched, but it’s real and it’s the best description of their relationship that Scott could ever think of. He sneaks another kiss to Mitch’s fingers and Mitch giggles, excitedly, despite the pain from getting his tattoo. Scott goes next - it burns like hell and Scott grits his teeth to keep from making any faces that the tattoo artist will definitely judge him for. Mitch holds his hand, the same way Scott held his, and less than half an hour later, they’re both finished. 

Mitch pays for both of them, since it was his idea, and Scott can’t stop looking at his hand. He has a tattoo, a _real_ tattoo. The ink bled into his skin is going to be there forever, and now he’s okay with it because he knows Mitch is going to be there forever too. 

They leave after paying, and they both take one look at each other and start giggling. “We got tattoos!” Mitch squeals excitedly, clapping his hands so giddy and practically skipping to Scott’s dad’s car. Scott unlocks the car and opens Mitch’s door, and Mitch slides into the car, bouncing up and down in his seat. “We actually got tattoos!” 

“I know!” Scott laughs, feeling just as giddy as Mitch is. He feels a little lightheaded and dizzy and part of him kind of wants to throw up, but he’s actually - surprisingly - so happy that he did this. He feels liberated. Free. He feels like he’s finally starting to make decisions for himself and do what he truly wants to do, after so long of having who he really is silenced and suppressed and hidden away. Maybe he’ll get more tattoos, maybe he’ll even get a sleeve. Maybe he’ll go back next weekend and get a bigger, more obvious tattoo, and rub it in his dad’s face. He looks down at his hand as he grips the steering wheel and he smiles. He did it, he actually did it. And his dad is going to _hate_ it. 

It’s honestly just the icing on the cake. 

“Can you believe that we actually did this?” Mitch asks, snapping Scott out of his thoughts. “We look _so_ badass!” Scott can't help but to agree.

Mitch goes on and on until they’re back at his house, the jag parked in the Grassi driveway and Scott turns the key in the ignition after putting it in park, the roar of the engine silenced and the only thing he can hear now is Mitch. “I can’t decide if I want to be subtle about my parents seeing it,” Mitch says as Scott opens the passenger side door of the jag. “Or if I want to just shove it in their faces. Or if I want them to find it all on their own.” 

“Either way, your mom is probably going to have a heart attack,” Scott says, giggling a little at the thought of his dad seeing _his_ tattoo. He can practically see the vein in his dad’s head bulging and his mom will probably make him sit down to ward off a heart attack. His mom will probably scold him and demand that he gets rid of it, even offering to pay for it herself, and his dad will probably rant and rave about how he looks like a hoodlum now. And Scott will be wearing a smile on his face the entire time. What a wonderful evening. 

“And Dad will probably start drinking again,” Mitch chuckles. “God, I can’t wait! Remember when my mom threw away my vintage Valentino jacket? Honestly, she deserves this -” Mitch raises his middle finger with the tattoo on it and grins. “More than anything.”

“I agree,” Scott says. They find themselves in front of Mitch’s front door, and Mitch fumbles with his keys to prolong Scott’s stay; he notices it right away and he smiles a little. He’s so cute. Scott can’t even begin to put it into words. When Mitch starts to say goodbye, Scott grabs the sides of his face and kisses him hard. He can feel Mitch gasp softly against his mouth but he grabs Scott’s waist and pulls him in close. Their bodies curve against each other’s perfectly, and Scott can’t help but to moan quietly into Mitch’s lips. He could do this all day, forever. God, he loves Mitch so fucking much. 

They pull away a moment later, and Scott’s breath ghosts against Mitch’s lips, making the smaller boy shiver. “Till death do us part,” Scott whispers to him and Mitch’s face is a beautiful shade of red. He kisses Scott one more time before getting out of the jag, and Scott rides his euphoria all the way home. Everything, for once, is just so perfect.


	5. good times babe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “He hates the idea of Mitch not going to prom; he knows how much he’s been looking forward to this, he’s been talking about the dress he’s going to wear since sophomore year. Prom is much more important to Mitch than it is Scott, and he hates thinking about him missing something that matters so much to him because of him. All he wants is for Mitch to be happy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT’S OVER. this last ‘chapter’ of my SRK universe, thank you all for joining me on this wild ride :’) 
> 
> ilu and i hope u enjoy the grand finale!! <3

There’s a loud knock on his bedroom door that jolts Mitch up so fast and abrupt that he is sure he nearly blacks out from the sudden head rush. He had been in that beautiful stage of almost asleep, but not quite there yet; barely aware of the ASMR video he had up on his laptop, the feeling of his pillows beneath his cheek, slowly losing touch with reality and entering his dreams. It had been a long day and he was over it it more ways than one. All he wanted to do was sleep until tomorrow - which is exactly why he had turned off the notification alerts on his phone and tossed it aside for the evening, shut off all of the lights in his room, and locked his bedroom door just for a few hours of peace. 

Clearly, that was just too much to ask for.

The knocking - more like banging at this point - on his door continues until he groans, “I’m _coming_!” and forces himself out of the of comfort of his blanket cocoon to answer whoever it is that wants his attention so badly. He shouldn’t be surprised that it’s Scott standing on the other side of his door with his usual, dopey grin on his face. 

Mitch sighs; he loves Scott and he loves his company, but he just wanted to be alone today. “I told you I was turning my phone off tonight,” he says, still stepping aside so Scott can come inside. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

“I’ve come to take you to prom,” Scott says. 

Mitch blinks, not understanding for a moment, and it’s only when he opens his mouth to ask Scott just what the hell he’s talking about that he notices for the first time that the blond is wearing a suit and tie. “What?” is all he can say, dumbly. 

Scott is grinning from ear to ear. “You heard me,” he says, obviously giddy and feeling quite proud of himself. “I’ve come to take you to prom.”

“Again, I ask,” Mitch slowly says, just staring at Scott, trying to figure out just what he’s talking about. “What?” 

“I’ve come -”

“Stop repeating yourself!” Mitch interrupts, rolling his eyes. “I heard you, I just don’t understand what the hell -”

“I’m the reason you didn’t get to go to prom,” Scott says softly, and Mitch falls silent. “And it doesn’t matter how many times you try and convince me that it wasn’t my fault, or that you didn’t even want to go, I know that prom is all you’ve been looking forward to for almost all of high school. Don’t even pretend you haven’t been looking for a dress since sophomore year.” Mitch’s face flushes slightly and he ducks his head down; Scott definitely isn’t wrong about that. “I just want to give you something you really, really want,” Scott tells him. “You deserve it.”

Mitch smiles shyly at Scott, and he murmurs, “You’re all I want, Scotty. You don’t have to give me anything else.” 

Scott rolls his eyes, although his practically purple face gives him away. “Shut up,” he says, his voice cracking just slightly. “Now,” he pauses so he can dip out into the hallway for a moment and he returns with a large white box. “Get dressed. Your parents aren’t home, so I’ll be waiting for you downstairs.”

Mitch nearly drops the box as Scott shoves it in his hands. “What - what is this - Scott!” he stutters, trying to wrap his mind around just what is even going on, because this all feels like some strange fairy tale that he’s found himself thrown into, but Scott doesn’t say anything else and he just leaves Mitch alone with his mysterious package. 

With a soft sigh, he places the box on his bed and opens the lid. Whatever is inside is hidden beneath layers of tissue paper, and a note place on top. He unfolds the paper and reads Scott’s chicken scratch handwriting - _thanks for not clearing your browsing history. xoxo Scott_ \- and Mitch can feel his neck and face heating up. A million of vastly inappropriate thoughts are racing through his mind and he can’t tear the tissue paper off fast enough. But when he does, his heart nearly stops and his eyes start welling up with tears. 

He knows what it is before he even unfolds it, and when his fingers graze against the black fabric his has to choke back a sob. “I hate you!” he shouts to Scott, but god he loves him so fucking much.

* * *

When Scott hears Mitch yelling _“I hate you!”_ from upstairs, he can’t help but to smile. His plan to make this the best night of Mitch’s life is finally underway and it’s already getting off to a good start. Still, he can’t help but to worry - was the dress going to fit? Did Mitch even want that particular garment anymore? Would he -

All of Scott’s thoughts cease entirely when Mitch emerges from his bedroom in a flowing black gown, and Scott is certain that his heart stops beating for a second. Like, actually. He’s pretty sure he blacks out from lack of pulse or something but when he comes to, he thinks for a second that he must’ve died and now he’s in heaven because there’s an angel dressed in black standing before him. 

Scott doesn’t know anything about fashion, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what Mitch likes and which of his bookmarks he’s visited the most. That coupled with his dad’s credit card equals the perfect prom dress for Mitch. 

“Baby,” he all he can whisper when Mitch is finally close enough. “I - you look - wow.” he feels a little stupid for being unable to form a coherent sentence but who can blame him? Mitch looks stunning beyond words. 

“I don’t even know what to say,” Mitch says, his voice just as soft as Scott’s. “I - how did you even -”

“You deserve it,” Scott interrupts gently. “And I was serious when I said I didn’t want to go to prom with anyone except for you.”

“So was I,” Mitch whispers, his cheeks pink and rosy.

Scott’s face hurts with how wide he’s smiling. “And that’s why I’m making us our own prom.” Mitch’s eyes nearly double in size and his jaw drops, just slightly. Scott can’t help but to chuckle a little at his reaction. “It’s not going to be anywhere near as glamorous as our prom probably was,” he admits, feeling a little guilty. “But my parents are out of town for the weekend, so I cleared out our basement and tried to make it look decent, and I - I know it’s not much, and I know it’s probably not going to be as good as the real thing, but I just -”

Scott stops rambling when Mitch wraps his arms around the blond, pulling him in close for a tight hug. “Thank you,” he whispers. “I love you so much.”

“I love you so much,” Scott murmurs, smiling against Mitch’s ear. He presses a little kiss to his temple and breaks their hug saying, “C’mon, we have a prom to go to.” 

* * *

Scott’s makeshift basement prom ends up being the best night of Mitch’s life. How Scott managed to pull all of this off without him realizing it is beyond him, but Mitch burst into tears upon seeing the setup. Scott had cleared out the entire basement, moving aside all of the junk that had been cluttering it and making a wide open space for them to use as their dance floor. He hung up fairy lights all throughout the basement, he even went as far as getting a disco ball to hang from the ceiling. He filled a bowl with fruit punch - and a splash of vodka - and got them little paper cups to drink out of, just like they would at school. With the lights dimmed and cheesy music playing from his iPod, this truly felt like a real prom. 

“It’s perfect,” Mitch whispered through his tears looking around at everything. He turned to Scott, who was looking a little nervous, and he said to him, “You’re perfect.” 

They spent hours dancing and drinking and making out, just like they would have at their real prom. Mitch’s face hurts with how much he smiles all night, and in the middle of it all, Scott sneaks away from him to reach behind the couch that had been pushed off into the far corner of the room, and he grabs a plastic shopping bag, revealing a plastic gold crown.

Mitch bursts out laughing. “I take it I’m prom queen?” he asks Scott.

“Of course,” Scott tells him. He reveals a similar crown, not as extravagant as Mitch’s but just as nice, and puts it on his own head. “And I am your king.”

“Naturally,” Mitch agrees, and Scott brandishes the crown, placing it atop of Mitch’s head.

“A crown fit for a queen,” Scott said, placing it atop of Mitch’s head. Mitch wis beaming, as if he had just been crowned Miss America, and Scott kisses him, sweetly and slowly, just because. “Your head was made for a crown,” Scott tells him. “You look just like a little queen.”

“I feel like one,” Mitch admits. He smiles up at Scott, eyes watering up once again and he says, “You always make me feel like a queen.”

Scott holds Mitch tight and close. “That’s all I ever want to do,” he says to him. “I want you always make you feel like a queen, because you are my queen.”

“And you’re my king,” Mitch says, pushing himself up on his toes to kiss Scott. “My perfect king,” he whispers against Scott’s mouth, and damn it if he doesn’t want to cry with how much he loves Scott Hoying.


End file.
